Something Wicked This Way Comes
by Rapunzzle
Summary: Elliot and Olivia investigate the sexual assault and murder of a young woman. Little do they know who the true object of the villian's wrath is. Rated T or M for grapic nature. OliviaElliot DramaAngst. Chapter 9 Up. Warning: Language.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **I do not, nor will I ever, own any part --or anything associated with-- Law and Order or it's subsidiaries, including Law and Order SVU.

**Rated:** I would say T or M for safety.

**A/N: **Greetings and salutations Law and Order: SVU fans-- I just wanted to say a quick howdy-do because I'm com_pletely_ new the SVU fanfic set. I've posted a few House M.D. fics but have put off writing on SVU because I, unfortunately, only became a fan sometime last season. I never like to begin a genre until I feel I have a good, thourough grasp on the story, characters, quirks and details, but after Tuesday's emotional episode, I felt suddenly inspired to begin a fic that I had planned out and organized. So, I want to ask for help along the way. I'm doing research to find out the smaller details --I know that Elliot's ex wife's name is Kathy/Cathy, but I don't know the children's names, or how old they are, for example-- and hope that, if anyone reads this, that they will help me out as I go. I've been told that I'm a 'descriptive' writer, which is something I feel comes naturally --thank you Diana Gabaldon for the model-- and I understand that thisappeals to only a certain portion of readers so I hope most of you who read this will enjoy it. I love to write; hopefully, in the coming months, it will serve me well as I begin my Masters of International Journalism in the UK and my future career.  
For this piece, as it is my frist, I'm not going into grave detail as to the workings and operations of 'the physical case', but have thus far delved deeper into the case at hand than I have in any of my House fics which are primarily emotion-based. I am here referencing past-cases which have not, to my direct knowleadge, been featured on the show. Please understand that I am assuming that what is seen in the series --if we were to consider the show as reality-- is only a snippet of the daily/case life lead by the characters (we therefore do not see _every_ case they work).  
What a lengthy preamble, huh? My apologies. One final note-- my chapters are relatively short and they are this way deliberately. I tend to break up chapters by feel --where I feel one thought pattern ends and another begins. I also tend to end my chapters on a 'hanging note', as in, conversations may not be completed for the reader to see, but it is visible later on that these issues have been continued. I am working on making my chapters longer, and will have more in this work than my previous House fics.  
Okay! Now that's done with, do you really still want to read the fic? The first chapter here, The _Prologue_, however,is very short. I hope you enjoy :)

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Saturday, March 4, 2006  
11:41 am  
142 Westers Street 

Mary Westcott stepped off the fourth floor elevator and walked casually down the sea-green carpet. She pushed her over-sized sunglasses to the top of her head and tossed a waist-length strand of flaxen hair over her right shoulder. Stopping at apartment 4F, she knocked—"Robby?" No answer.  
"Rob, come on, we're going to be late!"  
Muffled voices drifted to her through the apartment door—Sonny Corinthos and the drama of _General Hospital_. She knocked again—"Rob? Hello?"  
Rolling her kelp-colored eyes skyward Mary dug into her cherry Derek Alexander tote to find her 'emergency key'.  
"Probably locked in the bathroom" she muttered, "Diva".  
Stepping inside the smaller-than-average apartment, Mary tossed the bag and keys on a nearby chair. The television chattered on the sputtered into darkness as Mary snapped the set off.  
"Rob?" –Nothing.  
Turning, Mary moved towards the bathroom at the end of the hall.  
"Robin?" Come _on_".  
Opening the white door she found the room empty, curling iron plugged in. Mary knit her brow—"Robin?"  
She turned round, moving back down the narrow hallway, and poked her head into the bedroom. A violent scream welled up from the depths of her stomach and flooder her mouth, drowning her slowly.

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**A/N:** _Really _short, I know. I'm working on getting the next chapter up immediately following this post. I do have several chapters, a few shorter than others, written out in my notebook so I will get things up ASAP --yes, I do write things out long-hand first... laborious!  
In the meantime, could anyone please offer a little assistance? Can you give me then names and ages of Elliot's children? and how long the two were married?  
Also, for a future chapter, can anyone tell me the number/name of the precint they're at? I know I sound like such a phoney... So sorry!  
Thanks muchly!  
'punzzle 


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** Not Mine-- see chapter one.

**A/N:** Well, that was faster than I'd planned. Was having trouble uploading things last night, so had to type them up and do it now. This chapter is a little longer, but I assure you they will get longer, or at the very least, there will be more :) Hope you enjoy.

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12:24 pm 

Detective Olivia Benson stepped over a pink lace bra and came to a halt beside her partner. She exhaled slowly and glanced up at Elliot Stabler's face; his crystal-blue eyes fixed on the still, pale form of the young woman displayed before them.  
"Best friend says they were meeting some guys to go for lunch; let herself in with the emergency key when the vic didn't answer the door" Olivia broke the chilled silence.  
Elliot flicked his gaze down to meet hers.  
"They were running late" Olivia finished.  
Elliot nodded; cleared his throat.  
"Jugular was slashed—she bled out". He raised a hand to gesture in the victim's direction. "No underwear, but there's semen".  
Olivia looked up, the unspoken question visible in her eyes. After seven years working in tandem, her intent was clear; Elliot nodded again.  
"Gone to the lab—CSU's got us on speed dial".  
Olivia swept her chestnut gaze over the body of the 18 year old victim before her—A beautiful thing with long, curling, mahogany hair and lifeless hazel eyes. Letting her eyes wander, she took in the surrounding room: soft, muted yellow walls; half-wilted sunflowers in a red vase next to the bed; orange gossamer curtains the color of a country sunset. Sensing her partners impending movement, Olivia stepped over the pink lingerie once again and exited the room.  
"Mary Westcott" Olivia intoned privately as the pair approached the 5'10" young woman hunched painfully at the end of a worn white sofa. A knitted afghan swathed her slender shoulders which had finally stopped shaking. Mary had ceased crying however her cheeks bore the faint bruises left by spoiled mascara.  
Olivia approached the woman slowly, taking a seat in the ivory recliner opposite.  
"Mary, I'm Detective Benson, this is Detective Stabler" she said softly, evoking no noticeable response from the blonde.  
"Can you tell us what you told the officer?"  
The ashen woman blinked her heavy lashes and exhaled briskly, forcing her gaze to meet Olivia.  
"Rob and I were going for lunch –_Benitos_, down on seventh? I came to pick her up. I knocked…" she paused briefly to lick her full bottom lip, "but there was no answer".  
Mary exhaled slowly and let her body relax slightly against the sofa.  
"I could hear the TV. I figured she was in the bathroom priming—such a glamourpuss" Mary chuckled once before seemingly chocking on the sound. She cleared her throat and continued.  
"I knocked again, and when there was no answer, I let myself in".  
"With your emergency key?" Olivia asked gently.  
Mary re-focused her ivy orbs on the detective and nodded stiffly—"Yes, um… yes".  
Elliot took a tentative step forward—"What made you use the key?" he questioned in a practiced tone.  
Mary looked up at him as if noticing his presence for the fist time. She knit her brow, clearly confused.  
"Was there anything other than the TV that made you feel there could have been something wrong with Robin?" he clarified.  
Mary shook her head, blonde locks falling over her covered shoulders.  
"No" she sniffed, "no. I use it all the time—I might as well live here, often as I'm over. Robin and I have known each other since we were nine—we're practically sisters".  
Elliot nodded, the corner of his mouth dipping upward into a soft, sympathetic smile.  
"So when you came into the apartment, what did you do?" Olivia queried gently, drawing Mary's attention to her once again.  
Mary closed her rose-painted lids and exhaled heavily—"I, um… I turned off the TV and went to the bathroom to find her".  
Olivia nodded, listening.  
"The curling iron was plugged in, but she wasn't there". Mary paused. "I went back down the hall to check the bedroom and…" fresh tears began to gather in the green pools of her eyes, "and that's…" her voice faded to a whisper, "that's where I found her".  
A renegade tear freed itself and slipped silently down her ashen cheek which she brushed away roughly.  
"And then?" Elliot asked carefully.  
Mary cleared her aching throat and forced herself to straighten—"I called the police and here we are".  
"You didn't touch anything?" Olivia questioned. "You didn't go to her or move anything in the room?"  
Mary shook her heavy head—"No. I couldn't move at first; couldn't set foot in that room. She was so pale, and there was so much blood—I called to her, but…" she paused briefly, clearly reliving the moment "she didn't answer. I came away from the door and used the phone there". She pointed to the black cordless sitting idle on the nearby kitchen counter.  
Olivia nodded slowly.  
"You told the officer you and Robin were going for lunch with some guys?"  
Mary nodded and brushed a free strand of hair from her eyes—"Yes".  
"Who?" Olivia probed.  
"This guy Matt. He's in Rob's Sociology class; he's been hounding her for a date for months. She finally said yes so he was brining along a friend—we were going to double".  
Olivia looked up and met her partner's gaze.  
"Mary", Olivia turned again to face the woman in front of her, "do you know Matt's last name?"

* * *

**A/N:** Wow-- that was two pages on my Word Document! 


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** See chapter one.

**A/N:** Howdy. Had a little car accident last night on my way home --there's a first time for everything, stressful, stressful, stressful-- so I decided I needed to do something thereapeutic. For me, that's writing. So here I am. Welcome to the third --and admittedly VERY short-- chapter. So I've never done _this_ before-- another perspective and all that, so it's a new twist for my fic style, I hope you all think it works. Thanks so much to those of you who reviewed and answered my trivia questions with helpful information.  
**chuffy-barmed-oc:** thanks so much for the info. Just a little warning that this will become every so slightly more Elliot/Olivia-centered; I tend to amp up the angst so I assure you that you will _not_ catc Elliot and Olivia in some intimate embrace, or muttering sweet nothings because, at this point in the series, you just _wouldn't_ find the characters doing that, now would you? But, keep reading, please, because it's going to get a little tense (think, Elliot's response when Liv was injured in the recent ep.)  
**trusting-what-isn't-there:** thanks for the info! Really appreciate it!  
**TV Angel 711:** thanks for the greate details about the kids ages and such-- much appreciated!  
**Jouliana:** thanks! And yes, I'm so over the Sonny/Emily drama. At first, I thought they were cute: Emily could use a bad boy like Sonny, and I love to see Sonny being more 'human' (for lack of a better term). I'm finding the added drama from Jason _way _over the top-- I'm rootin' for an Em/Nikolas revivial!  
Thanks again to everyone for the reviews and the help. So far, I think I'm caught up so nothing new to know. Hope you enjoy! and I'm adding the fourth chapter as soon as possible.

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_The view was poor, however there was no closer apartment than this so he was forced to make due. A figure enshrouded in shadow hunched at the window with horizontal blinds drawn against the warm, March day. Breathing heavily, his nostrils flared at the growing stench of a rotting corpse—it was time to move; they would come soon.  
Across the busy New York street, the orange curtains were open, just as he'd left them. Unfortunately the tall figure of a man in a navy suit obstructed the view. The soft yellow walls behind the oak headboard were laced with read—just like sunset. Deep, crimson essence was splashed across the white satin pillow—he couldn't see but knew it was there. Chapped lips arched slowly into a cruel smile which made visible the few remaining, stained teeth.  
The baby-pink silk nightie lay rumpled about snow-white thighs decorated with a crimson that soaked into the rich fabric. A woman's form entered the view, blocking a pair of long, still legs as the camera zoomed in; so much attention to his handiwork—so many admirers._


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** Not mine-- see chapter one.

**A/N:** I've never been one for terribly _long _chapters --that's going to be a problem when I write my first best-seller, I'll have to take a page out of Margaret Atwood and keep them short but colorful-- but this is _considerably_ longer than my last chapter wink wink chuffy-barmed-oc (thanks for all the help!) The next chapter is a return to the very short, but five will be another long one. I have a few pages of chapter seven in my notebook and, finals not withstanding, will continue the groove. Hope you're enjoying-- it will pick up, I promise, once I've set the groundwork :)  
**Warning: **Language.  
'punzzle

* * *

3:04pm  
NYPD 16th Precinct  
SVU 

Olivia turned in her seat as Elliot set a lukewarm cup of station-house coffee in front of her. She offered him a half-smile—"Thanks".  
He nodded as he seated himself across from her and took a sip from his own styrofoam cup.  
"Any luck with our Frat Boys?" Elliot queried.  
Olivia nodded, grimacing slightly at the bitter coffee she had just ingested.  
"Being brought in as we speak" she flipped open a folder on her desk, "Matthew Stormer to room 2 and David Reeth to 5".  
"You wanna tag-team'em? Or go solo?" Elliot questioned, drinking down the final, murky remnants of his coffee and tossing the used cup into the nearby trashcan with athletic grace.  
Olivia knit her carefully-sculpted brows for a moment considering.  
"Together, I think—make them wait".  
Elliot nodded his agreement and leaned back in his chair.  
"So, what do you make of it so far?"  
Olivia sipped her coffee and swallowed hard before leaning forward to drop the still half-full cup into the trashcan.  
"No sign of forced entry, and the door was locked—so either the perp was someone Robin knew and they locked the door behind them, or they entered through the bedroom window via the fire escape".  
Elliot arched a brow, impressed.  
"The window was closed" he responded.  
"But not locked" Olivia fired back.  
Elliot nodded and sat back thoughtfully in his chair. Around them, the daily hustle-and-bustle of the precinct continued undisturbed like a suburban symphony.  
"The curtains were open" Elliot mused, more to himself than Olivia.  
His partner nodded anyway—"I was wondering that myself" she answered.  
"It would have been simple to exit the room, draw the curtains, and close the window. Why leave them open?"  
Elliot shrugged—"Fourth floor—not much chance of someone seeing her".  
Olivia looked at her partner silently. He met her gaze and lifted one shoulder in a helpless manner.  
"For now, our best assumption is that they entered through the door and were therefore someone the vic knew".  
Olivia pursed her lips slightly and frowned—"Was the deadbolt locked when Mary reached the apartment?"  
Elliot flipped open a nearby coil-ring notebook and shuffled through the worn pages—"She said she unlocked the door, I assume she means both locks, but we don't know for sure", he looked up to meet Olivia's golden gaze, "but we can find out".  
Olivia nodded—"If so, and we assume the perp entered through the door then not only were they someone the vic knew, but someone who had a key in their possession, or had access to one".  
Elliot raised a brow and opened his mouth to speak—"Elliot! Olivia!" Fin's voice broke through from across the squad room, "you're boys are here".

* * *

"So, Matthew, I understand you and David Reeth had a lunch date scheduled with Robin Chester and Mary Westcott this afternoon at _Benito's_ café?" Olivia took a seat across from the tall, lightly-tanned athlete with dark hair and piercing black eyes.  
Matthew Stormer was draped casually against the back of his interrogation room chair. His dark eyes swept slowly over Olivia's delicate features before settling on the figure of Elliot Stabler a foot or so behind and to the left of his partner.  
"Look, did Mary call you? I don't know what she told you—I don't know what it's going to take; that girl is _crazy_" he answered briskly.  
Olivia arched a brow—"Why would Mary call us?" she questioned.  
Stormer scoffed loudly and rolled his head back to gaze at the ceiling.  
"She's a sheltered, pampered little princess who couldn't handle rejection". He focused his gaze on Olivia once again.  
"Jealousy" he shrugged, "what can I say?"  
Olivia flicked her eyes upward to meet Elliot's eyes briefly before questioning Stormer again.  
"So, Mary Westcott has made advances towards you?"  
Matthew Stormer laughed obnoxiously – "Who hasn't?"  
"Apparently Robin Chester" Elliot broke in. "From what we've heard, _you're_ the one who can't handle rejection".  
Stormer rolled his coal-black eyes—"Says who? _Mary?_ Bitch couldn't handle that I wanted Robin, not her; too many years of having things handed to you on the silver platter have fucked with her sense of reality".  
Olivia lifted a brow—"Oh?"  
"I've been in class with Robin for almost three months" Stormer complained, "—three months I've been trying to land a date with that girl. But her 'best friend', _Mary_, was always there telling me to back off and shit. She couldn't handle that I wanted Robin and not her. So finally, when Robin agreed to go out with me, the condition was that Mary had to come. So I set the bitch up, and they never showed. That Mary; she's _always_ in my way".  
Elliot stepped forward from the semi-shadows.  
"So what makes you think Mary called us about you? If she's got it so bad for you, why call the cops? Unless she thought there was a real reason to keep you away from Robin".  
Stormer leaned forward, crossing his long arms over the tabletop.  
"I told you—that bitch is crazy; another little spoiled rich girl who throws a tantrum when she doesn't get her way. She's probably just angry because of my phone call—had her daddy call in a little favor".  
Elliot glanced down at Olivia—"What phone call?" Olivia probed.  
Stormer sighed and pushed himself back against the chair—"When they didn't show, I called Mary—she probably talked Robin out of it…" he grumbled.  
Olivia leaned forward in her seat—"What did you two talk about?"  
"Nothing" Stormer answered, "I got her voice mail".  
"So what did you say that would make you think Mary called us?" Elliot questioned.  
Stormer exhaled, clearly annoyed, and lifted his square shoulders in a shrug—"I told her to move on and back off—I wanted Robin and she needed to get that through her blonde head".  
Elliot glanced once more at his partner and stepped back from the table.  
"About what time did you make this call?" Olivia asked.  
Stormer knit his brow in thought—"Around… 12:45, something like that. Dave and I were still sitting at _Benito's_".  
"From your cell phone then?" Olivia clarified.  
Stormer nodded—"Didn't use my _fork_".  
Olivia glanced up at Elliot who nodded and moved toward the door. Matthew Stormer caught the movement and frowned slightly—"Why? What did Mary _tell_ you?"  
Olivia looked at Stormer from across the table—"Robin Chester was found murdered in her home this afternoon".  
Slowly the atmosphere in the room shifted. Matthew Stormer's arrogance hissed out of him as his shoulders fell.  
"Wh-What?"  
"What time were Robin and Mary supposed to meet you at _Benito's_" Elliot asked from across the room.  
Matthew blinked—"Uh… noon, sharp. At 12:15 I figured it was just girls, y'know? But by 12:45, I thought Mary and talked her out of it".  
"What time did you and David Reeth get to _Benito's_?" Olivia asked next.  
"I got there around quarter to twelve, I think" Matthew responded, leaning back heavily in his seat, "Dave met me there just after twelve—said he got stuck in traffic".  
Elliot crossed his arms over his chest, gazing at Stormer. The young man looked suddenly from Olivia to her partner as if trapped.  
"You… you don't think _I_ did this! Is that what Mary's telling you?"  
"Mary hasn't said anything" Olivia answered him.  
"We'll be in touch" Elliot said coolly, opening the interrogation room door and holding it ajar for Olivia. The university student rose stiffly form his seat, mouth opening and closing soundlessly twice, as if gasping for words. He nodded finally and moved past the two detectives flanking his exit.  
"Matthew" Olivia asked as he passed, causing him to turn toward her, "when was the last time you spoke with Robin Chester?"  
The young man blinked—"Thursday… Thursday morning… in class". 


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** See chapter one.

**A/N:** Another increadibly short chapter, I know, but the next one will be longer, promise. Thanks to chuffy-barmed-oc for all the work-in-progress assitance :)

_

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_

_Stubby, smudged fingers –nails bitten to the quick and crusted with blood—stroked the lace trim of a pink silk thong. A male tenor rose softly in a chilling, unmelodic hum. Lifting the garment to his face he inhaled deeply, brushing the smooth, cool fabric against parched lips. Cracked hands carefully folded the bloody piece and slipped it into a padded envelope.  
Every musician left his mark on a concerto—a minor twist here, a colored lilt there, just as every artist signed his canvass. It was time for credit to be paid where credit was due._


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer:** See chapter one.

**A/N: **So, I've been writing my little heiny off tonight :P I hope you like it. Please review:)  
'punzzle

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4:23 pm  
NYPD 16th Precinct  
SVU 

Elliot opened the door to interrogation room 5 and held it so his partner could pass through before him. Olivia kept her dark eyes on the open file folder in her hands, pausing in the center of the room as Elliot closed the door behind them.  
"David Reeth?" she asked, flicking her gaze to the blonde twenty-year old seated nervously at the nearby table.  
The young man nodded awkwardly and swallowed—"Yes?"  
"I'm detective Benson; this is detective Stabler, thanks for coming in".  
Olivia sat opposite him. She closed the file and folded her hands casually on the tabletop.  
The co-ed nodded—"S-Sure. You mind telling me why I'm here?"  
"You and Matthew Stormer had scheduled to meet Robin Chester and Mary Westcott at _Benito's_ café at twelve-o'clock this afternoon, is that correct?" Elliot asked, standing off to Olivia's left.  
"That's right" Reeth answered slowly.  
"And what time did you arrive at the restaurant for this… _rendezvous_?" Elliot continued, folding his arms over his chest and moving slowly behind Reeth, circling like a cat waiting to pounce.  
"I dunno… around 12:30 maybe; I got stuck in traffic. Why? What's…?"  
"And you and Matthew Stormer remained at the restaurant until what time?" Elliot interrupted, coming to a halt at Olivia's right.  
"Until about 2:00 or so; we met some girls from school and had a drink. Robin and her friend Mary never showed so we made the best of it".  
"Did either of you attempt to contact Robin Chester or Mary Westcott?" Olivia broke in.  
"Uh… we sat for a while. When it looked like they weren't going to show, Matt called Mary's cell—left a message I think".  
"Were you present at the time?" Elliot queried.  
The young man shook his head—"Not the entire time. I got up to use the restroom" he answered.  
"Can you tell us what all you heard?" Olivia probed.  
David knit his brow in thought for a moment before responding—"Not much; something about 'she's a jealous bitch who needs to back off and get her own life'. I don't know.  
Why am I _here_?" he demanded, growing more concerned.  
"How well do you know Robin Chester and Mary Westcott?" Elliot asked, moving a step closer to the table.  
"I don't" David replied.  
"You _don't_?" questioned a surprised Olivia.  
"No" came the response, "—never met them in my life. All I know is that Matt has been trying to hook up with Robin all semester and the deal was that her friend Mary came, so he brought me along".  
Olivia glanced up at Elliot who intuitively met her gaze.  
"So you know nothing more about Robin Chester?" Elliot probed.  
David shrugged—"I know she's hot".

* * *

Elliot followed Olivia out of the interrogation room. The pair paused at the end of the hallway and turned to observe Matthew Stormer meet his fried and, after a brief and heated discussion, exit the precinct. Elliot turned and caught Olivia's eye as he continued his path toward his desk—"So what do you think?" he asked at last.  
Olivia flipped shut the manila folder she was carrying and inhaled a cleansing breath—"I don't think they're our guys" she responded.  
Elliot's eyes questioned hers' immediately.  
"They appear to both have an alibi –which we will corroborate at the restaurant—at the approximate time of death; both seem unlikely to have motive enough to go into Robin's home and kill her".  
The pair came to a halt at their conjoined desks. Olivia took her seat while Elliot remained standing across from her.  
"Reeth says he was late because he was stuck in traffic" he pointed out "—could have been he was delayed making the return trip from the vic's apartment".  
Olivia nodded—"True, but if he never knew Robin Chester, why rape her? Why kill her?" she tossed back.  
Elliot stretched his neck and rolled his tense shoulders back. He picked a foam football up from his desk and squeezed it tightly between his strong hands.  
"Maybe Reeth's lying" Elliot offered. "Maybe he _did _know Chester and wanted her for himself. He goes over to plead his case, she refuses, he doesn't back down…"  
Olivia raised a quizzical brow—"Possible, I suppose, but not exactly likely. It takes, what, at least thirty minutes to get from the vic's apartment to the restaurant? And that's on a good day. Murder's messy—would Reeth have had enough time to kill Robin, clean himself up, and get to _Benito's_ before 12:30?"  
Elliot gazed into the distance and gripped the football tightly—"I don't know".  
"I didn't see any defensive wounds" Olivia continued, "did you?"  
"Doesn't mean they're not there" Elliot retorted.  
"True".  
"What about Stormer?" Elliot questioned. "Kid seemed too cocky—maybe Reeth's covering for him; _may_be they were in it together".  
"True" Olivia repeated, "but you saw his reaction. Either he really didn't know, or someone should give that boy an Oscar".  
Elliot rolled his eyes and dropped the football onto his cluttered desk.  
"Still worth checking out" he conceded finally.  
"Never said it wasn't" Olivia smiled. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: **Not mine-- see chapter one.

**A/N:** So it's 20 after 3am and I have had one hell of a few days. But, nonetheless here I am, sitting up until 3:20am to finish this chapter, edit, and upload, even though my laptop is running a little slow tonight. So, I did say that this was Olivia/Elliot. There is a _little_ of that in here (did I mention I like angst?) Bear with me, you'll see where I'm going :)  
Hope you enjoy.  
'punzzle.

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7:14pm  
NYPD SVU  
16th Precinct 

Elliot held Olivia's light woolen coat as she slipped her arms in and moved towards the door. She smiled slightly—"Thanks".  
"Elliot! Olivia!"  
The pair turned as M.D. Warner approached, file folder in hand.  
"I was hoping I'd catch you. I have the results from the semen found at your crime scene".  
"That was fast" Olivia responded, "Any hits in CODIS?"  
"Yes and no" Warner answered.  
"I found a match, but to an unknown from a past case—Rachel Dickson; rape/murder in 2001".  
Elliot met Olivia's gaze—"What?"  
Olivia held her partner's eyes for a moment—"Not a match to…?" he stumbled, "Walter Greene" Olivia finished, breaking the connection between them and turning to Warner.  
The M.D. shook her head and handed the file to Elliot—"No, same unknown semen found at the Dickson scene, not a match to your suspect".  
Elliot opened the file and flipped past the gruesome photos of the young brunette, bloody and clad only in a black satin night gown. Olivia brushed against her partner's side as she craned over his arm to observe the past case file. Elliot knit his brow and flipped the folder shut.  
"Thanks" he said at last.  
The M.D. nodded—"Wish I could do more" she said with regret.  
Olivia smiled weekly as Melinda turned to leave, raising a hand in farewell. She turned and frowned as Elliot's figure disappeared through the precinct doors.  
"Elliot!" Olivia called, tossing the door open and stepping out into the crisp, early evening.  
A strong, dark figure made its way down the street in long, impressive strides.  
"Elliot!" Olivia called again, jogging down the cement steps after her partner.  
Elliot slowed slightly as she approached to his right—"El?" she questioned gently, looking up into his face, jaw set, eyes fixed forward.  
"It's late" he said, stopping at a red-lit corner, "go home and get some rest".  
Olivia smoothed her hand down the length of his bicep before coming to a rest at his forearm; his leather-gloved hand gripped the file tightly.  
"Elliot… Don't" she beseeched softly.  
Her partner blinked and slowly dropped his chin to meet her gaze. Olivia held his eyes for a moment before the shadow of emotion crossed over his face and he turned away as the light turned green.  
"Elliot!" Olivia called as he stepped off the sidewalk, leaving her alone on the curb.

* * *

Elliot switched off the evening news and tossed the remote control onto the coffee table amid a collection of magazines, newspapers and coasters. He sighed and ran a rough hand over his face, stopping to squeeze his throbbing temples. Picking up a bottle, Elliot took a long swallow of beer and flipped open the manila file folder in front of him. Spring, 2001—22 year old Rachel Dickson found raped and murdered in a fourth-floor suite of the _First Avenue Hotel_. She had checked in the night before with her fiancé, Walter Greene, who claimed that he had returned late from the first-floor lounge to find her dead.  
Elliot flipped past a crime scene photo—the pale, rigid body of Rachel Dickson: throat slashed, brown hair splayed across the white pillow case, legs spread at inhuman angles.  
Elliot rubbed the back of his aching neck and shut his eyes against the images that had once plagued him. A soft knock sounded at the door. Elliot inhaled a slow breath and flipped the folder shut. He picked up his beer and downed the remains of its contents before setting the empty bottle on the nearby kitchen counter. Another knock—louder this time, more insistent.  
Elliot glanced through the eye piece and sighed before unbolting the door and holding it at arms' length for his partner to pass through. Olivia stepped into the darkened, silent house and paused on the threshold to the kitchen.  
"Didn't your mother ever tell you it's impolite to walk away from a lady?" she teased unsuccessfully.  
Elliot closed the door quietly behind Olivia—"I'm sorry" he said flatly, eyes on the hardwood floor.  
Olivia exhaled slowly and turned to face him in the dim light—he looked so worn; so ragged. The divorce had seemed to drain whatever spark was left in him and it broke Olivia's heart to see the constant pain hiding in the clear pools of his eyes. Elliot lifted his gaze to take her in—comfortably casual in faded blue jeans, a worn black t-shirt and cropped leather jacket—but not really _seeing_ her.  
"Drink?" he asked simply, passing her on his way to the fridge.  
"Sure" she answered softly.  
Olivia peeled off her jacket and draped it over a nearby chair. Elliot emerged from the refrigerator with two cold beers and handed her one. She smiled lightly—"Thanks".  
Elliot nodded stiffly and popped the top on his own bottle before drinking deeply; he passed Olivia and sat awkwardly on the edge of the sofa. Olivia dropped the lid from her own bottle onto the nearby counter and took a sip. Her soft brown eyes glazed over the dim, hollow surroundings of her partner's home before coming to rest on him. Even in worn grey sweatpants and a sleeveless shirt he was an impressively handsome man with rugged, chiseled features and piercing, soulful eyes.  
It was then Olivia caught sight of the manila file folder, half-hidden under a _New York Times Magazine_. She perched herself on the edge of a chair to Elliot's right and cradled her beer between her knees.  
"Don't do this" she said at last.  
Elliot looked up at her, almost surprised she was still there, so close.  
"Do what?" he asked gruffly, attempting to affect a detached tone, and drained another swallow of beer.  
Olivia fixed her partner with an intense gaze which he met in challenge.  
"Blame yourself" she clarified "—rehash the past".  
Elliot scoffed lightly but his eyes flicked to the suspect file involuntarily.  
"I worry about you…" Olivia sighed, her voice hushed and lyrical.  
Elliot's strained eyes glazed over her figure as she gazed away from him towards the blank television. The neckline of her top was wide and uneven, as if the collar had been haphazardly hacked off. The thin, loose fabric hung off her small frame at an awkward angle, exposing one white shoulder. The dim, yellow light from the kitchen behind her filtered through the worn fabric, outlining the silhouette of her curving waist and breasts; fluorescent light caught in her hair and gave her an incandescent, almost angelic glow.  
"Don't" he said at last.  
Olivia met his gaze over the muted room and held it before Elliot turned away to fix his eyes on the cluttered table before him. Suddenly, she was beside him—Elliot could feel the warmth of her body, both soothing and exhilarating. She bent over him, blocking the poor light from his face, and picked up the folder. Elliot listed to the sound of Olivia's heels along the hardwood floor and the half-full beer bottle meet counter top; heard the rustle of leather over her skin and his front door open.  
"Thanks for the beer" she said softly before exiting his house and pulling the heavy door closed behind her.  
Elliot exhaled slowly and lifted his gaze from the table top to meet his own reflection in the empty television screen. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer:** Not mine.

**A/N: **Sorry this took so long, and that this chapter's not so terribly long. It's a shame. I write everything out long-hand and then type it out, so it seems SO much longer than when I post it here. Sad... Either way. I'm writing again. Sorry for the delay. I have two more chapters in my notebook and, provided I can actually update here (anybody else having issues with the site? too slow these days) I will keep updating. Hope you enjoy!  
'punzzle  
PS. Sorry for the mix up and repost if it caused and issues for anyone. This is the correct version.

* * *

Monday, March 6, 2006  
9:14am  
NYPD 16th Precinct  
SVU 

"I heard you spoke with the M.E." Don Cragen stalked out of his office and approached the conjoined desks of Stabler and Benson—"what do we know?"  
Olivia turned to face him, a mug of water in hand, and stepped forward, coming to halt at the right of her seated partner.  
"Semen is a match to a 2001 unsolved" she answered—"Rachel Dickson".  
Cragen lifted a brow—"the hotel case?"  
Olivia nodded.  
"No match to the boyfriend their either" Elliot interjected, flipping a file on his desk shut.  
"What about your current suspects?" Cragen inquired.  
Olivia shook her head and perched herself on the edge of Elliot's desk—"unlikely, seeing as they would have been fifteen at the time, but we're not ruling them out".  
The captain nodded, mulling over their current state of affairs.  
"So, what's your next move?" he asked finally.  
"Go back to Mary Westcott" Elliot explained, rising to his feet, "seems she may have had more of an 'introduction' to Matthew Stormer than she let on".  
"Good" Cragen nodded.

* * *

11:23am  
Willow Towers on 8th  
Penthouse of Mary Westcott 

Elliot waited just inside the elevator, his arm held against the open doors to let Olivia pass through before him. The pair traveled down the crème-tinted hall of one of the poshest buildings in New York and stopped at the red-painted door of 'Penthouse B'.  
"Some place" Elliot commented dryly, casting a glance down the hall to their left where a large palm took up an expansive bay window.  
"Indeed" Olivia agreed, raising a hand to knock.  
"Stormer may have been right about one thing" Elliot mused as the penthouse door opened slowly to reveal the pale, un-made face of Mary Westcott.  
"Mary" Olivia greeted the girl softly.  
"What's up?" the woman questioned. Her green eyes were rimmed with red—evidence that she had slept little since they spokelast.  
"Could we speak with you?" Olivia requested.  
The blonde nodded slightly, closing the door momentarily to unhook the chain and allow them passage. Opening the door, Mary turned and retreated silently to the living room on slippered feet. Her waist-length hair hung over her pajama-clad shoulder in a loose braid and slipped behind her neck as she dropped into an oversized, white leather chair.  
The young woman, clad in pink, candy-cane striped pajamas, pulled her legs up onto the seat to embrace her knees.  
"We know this has been hard on you" Olivia began, seating herself across from the young woman, "but we needed to ask you a few more questions".  
The blonde sniffed and nodded—"anything I can do to help" she said in a weak voice.  
"How well do you know Matthew Stormer and David Reeth?" Olivia questioned, flipping open a blue, coil-ring notebook.  
"Not well—I don't know that David guy at all. He's some friend of Matt's".  
"You've never seen him on campus?" Olivia pressed.  
Mary shook her hazy head—"um… no, I don't think so."  
Olivia nodded and flipped forward a page or two.  
"What about Matthew Stormer?"  
Mary scoffed quietly—"'Big Man on Campus'" she said, her voice cracking slightly.  
"How so?" Elliot questioned.  
Mary looked up at him standing off to Olivia's right, appearing to notice his presence for the first time.  
"Rumor has it he has this" she paused, blinking, "_photo album_ he keeps a record of all his conquests in" she explained.  
"A photo album?" Elliot knit his brow.  
Mary nodded—"Pictures, naked pictures, of the girls in his bed. He never stays with one for more than a few weeks, and once he's fucked them, it's pretty much over".  
Elliot arched a brow at his partner.  
"Did Matthew and Robin ever…" Olivia began.  
"_No_" Mary answered quickly, "never".  
"What makes you so certain?" Elliot queried.  
Mary turned to him, her green eyes taking on a fierceness he'd yet to see—"Because I would have known" she insisted, "Rob would have told me".  
Elliot nodded, offering her a soft, sympathetic look.  
Mary sniffed again and brushed angrily at a rogue tear.  
"Besides, Robin didn't believe in premarital sex" Mary continued. She chuckled softly—"_values_; Rob was raised in the church. Her father would have…" she trailed off.  
Mary cleared her throat.  
"She was a virgin".  
Olivia blinked her dark lashes slowly before looking back at Mary.  
"Mary… you and Matthew; was there ever anything between you?"  
Mary laughed hoarsely.  
"Yeah. Hatred".

Olivia stepped into the bright, mid-morning sun and sighed heavily, pausing on the white-washed steps of Mary Westcott's building. Elliot came up behind her, the glass doors swinging shut behind him, and nodded at the bellman who tipped his gold-rimmed hat in their direction.  
Olivia turned as Elliot approached before the two descended the stair toward the car.  
"Who do you believe?" she questioned, halting at the passenger door.  
"At this point" Elliot opened the drivers-side door and looked at her over the roof, "I'm disinclined to believe anyone until I see those photos".  
Olivia nodded and pulled open the door.  
"Let's go see a man about a trophy".


	9. Chapter 9

_Telephoto lenses are a remarkable invention. A small investment of worldly funds and this simple tool of mans creating would open doors, and windows, into the hidden lives of others—the moments they deign to keep 'private'. Those, those were the twilight moments, where you controlled the situation from afar, lording your power over the ants of civilization with all their pomp and false splendor.  
__A telephoto lens zooms into the apartment window of a luscious blonde and captures a secret rendezvous. How thrilling!_


End file.
